


Stained Indigo

by Cornerofmadness



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Historical, alternative reality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 12:21:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18388352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cornerofmadness/pseuds/Cornerofmadness
Summary: What if Angelus had found William as a seer in the early 1800's, made him insane before he was turned and then years later, William finds himself a strong suffragette named Drusilla.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer** \- Not mine. All characters belong to Mr. Whedon et al  
>  **Time Line** \- 1800's  
>  **Warnings** \- Your typical vampire violence toward both humans and dogs.  
>  **Author’s Note 1 -** This was written for the Vice Versa Challenge where the challenge was to do some role reversals within canon. The prompt I used for the challenge is at the end of the story. Certain lines come from _Fool for Love, Darla_ and Sylvia Plath .  
>  **Author’s Note 2** \- The Phillippa in this story is Phillipa Garrett Fawcett daughter of Millicent Garret Fawcett and niece to Elizabeth Garret Anderson, the first woman doctor in England. All three women were suffragists. The London National Society for Women’s Suffrage and the Women’s Social and Political Union are also real.  
>  **Author's Note 3** \- Thanks to Sj and Kat for the beta. Originally published in 2006.

Chapter One

“If we have to keep him, the least he could do is have visions on command,” Angelus grumbled as he stared at the younger vampire who was currently hugging a puppy.

“It would be nice.” Leaning over the back of the settee, Darla looped her arms around Angelus. The attar of roses she wore smelled warm and sweet. He canted his face up, and she dropped a kiss on his lips. Her fingers toyed with his neck. “But my little William has no control over his gift. Be thankful for what you can get, Angelus.”

Angelus glowered, straightening his cravat. “I don’t like it. He’s more trouble than he’s worth.” He gestured at William with one big hand. “What is he doing with that damned puppy?”

Darla glanced over to where William sat on the floor in front of the marble fireplace, combing the golden furred puppy, cooing to it softly. “I’m not even sure where he got the dog. William, why did you bring that home? It’ll soil the rugs, and you always forget to feed them. Your pets die.”

William pulled the puppy close, nuzzling his cheek against the thick fur. “He’s the color of sunshine. You can smell the luminosity.”

“He belongs in Bedlam.” Angelus groaned as he got to his feet. He fussed with his coat as he walked toward the door.

“And who do we have to blame for that?” Darla played with the pearl strand around her slender neck. “I found us a seer, and you fractured his mind.”

Angelus shrugged his broad shoulders. “You could have stopped me.” 

Darla pursed her painted lips in annoyance. “Watching you work was fascinating and thrilling. However, we were very short sighted. Now we have a seer who spouts nonsense and plays with puppies.”

“Isn’t he precious?” William got up, holding the puppy up for inspection. When no one said anything, William proffered the puppy to Darla who gave it a perfunctory pat. William held the puppy out to Angelus who waved him off. “He loves you. Pet him.”

“Leave off. Darla and I will be late if we don’t head for the theater now,” Angelus said.

“No one is going until you tell him you love him,” William insisted, putting the puppy in Angelus’s arms.

Angelus snapped the puppy’s neck and tossed the limp body back into William’s arms. His blue eyes misted over. He wailed loudly, cradling the dead puppy. William’s cries grew louder with every passing moment as he buried his face against the soft underbelly of the hapless puppy.

“Shut up.” Angelus cuffed him hard on the back of the head, which only made matters worse.

“Now look at what you’ve done, Angelus,” Darla snapped, putting her arms around William. “Shh, William. It’ll be all right.”

“He killed the sun,” William sputtered.

“It’ll be fine. We’ll get you more sunlight.” Darla stroked William’s soft curls.

“Darla, we don’t have time for this. We’ll be late,” Angelus grumbled.

“You should have thought of that before you killed needlessly.” Darla narrowed her dark eyes, like the kiss of a knife against his skin.

“We’re vampires. We’re supposed to kill,” he reminded her.

“You always were an idiot.” She curled her lip at him.

Angelus glowered, wanting to put her in her place but if he marred her face, there would be hell to pay. He knew how formidable Darla could be. “Let’s go.”

“You’re going alone,” Darla said, rocking the distraught William.

“Darla! This is ridiculous. Just put a cork in him and be done with it.” Angelus crossed his arms over his chest, his starched shirt crinkling.

Darla stood, her skirts snapping briskly as she stalked over to Angelus. She stabbed a finger into his chest. “Never forget, Angelus, you are not superior to William. You are both mine.”

Angelus’s nostrils flared. How dare she remind him that he owed her his existence? How dare she treat him like a child, and worse, to remind him that he had to share his lover with the barmy idiot crying his eyes out over a flea ridden mutt? “Fine, I’ll go alone.” His heels clicking on the wood flooring, Angelus stormed outside and down the wood sidewalk. She would pay for humiliating him. And that bloody simple-brained seer of hers, how he’d love to shove him into the sunlight he was always bleating on about. As he climbed into the hansom cab he had hailed, Angelus knew he was all talk. Darla had him under her thumb, and mostly he rather liked it until she got in a mood like tonight.

If she wanted to miss out on the theater, on how good he looked and on all the decadent things he had planned to do to her then fine, let her. He wasn’t in any mood to touch her now. When he got to the theater he was in such a foul mood, that he didn’t even have the energy to go to a private box and eat anyone. He simply sat and watched the play. He would have enjoyed it, if not for the mood he was in. On the way home, he stopped when he spotted a maid walking the lady of the house’s little useless dog. Didn’t the Queen like this breed of dog? The maid was at least tasty and maybe the furry beast would make William shut up when he got it home.

X X X

“I just wish my sisters could at least try to understand what I’m trying to do, even if they don’t support it.”

“Well, I think you’re the bravest person I know, Drusilla,” Phillippa said.

Drusilla blushed as she pulled on her skirt lifters, taking her hem up so it wouldn’t drag in the horse apples as she crossed the street. “I’m nothing in comparison to your mother and Aunt Elizabeth.”

“You went to jail.” Phillippa grinned. “It was amazing.”

“Your mother did tell me how proud she was that I threw a stone through that window during the suffrage march. However, your aunt was less appreciative. I do hope Dr. Anderson doesn’t withdraw her recommendation for me to the London School of Medicine for Women.” Drusilla’s face drained of color at the thought as she stepped back onto the sidewalk. She brushed a wrinkle out of the deep green fabric of her skirt. 

Phillippa grabbed her hand, shaking it. “Don’t worry. My esteemed aunt thinks you will be a very good doctor.” Phillippa’s nose wrinkled. “Though I can’t imagine why you or my aunt or cousin Louisa would want to be a physician.” She shuddered.

“It’s fascinating, unlike math. I don’t know how it doesn’t bore you to death.” Drusilla smiled at her friend.

“Math makes perfect logical sense, and it’s not squishy or smelly like things doctors have to deal with,” Phillippa replied practically.

“You have a point,” Drusilla conceded, sweeping a walnut curl away from her face. She scowled suddenly. “While I was in prison, I thought about my father and how he probably would have disowned me. I’m not sure that he would have even thought to take us seriously.”

“Your father was like most men. He thought women were too foolish and weak to so much as read a newspaper without fainting, let alone excel in math or science.”

“I know. He adored me when I was little. He never understood me, especially as I got older. Never did, up to the day he died.” Drusilla wagged her head. “You have no idea how lucky you are, Phillippa, that your father believes in our cause and helps you.”

“I _know_ how lucky I am,” Phillippa said. “So back to your sisters. What is the problem you’re having with them now?”

“For some reason, Honora is insisting I attend her latest society party. Usually she wants me as far from her friends as possible but tomorrow night she is insistent that both me and Mary Margaret are both there.”

“Sounds like something important is going to happen,” Phillippa said, going into the meeting place for the London National Society for Women’s Suffrage.

“It had better be if I have to endure her insipid friends,” Drusilla moaned.

“Maybe she’s found the perfect man for you and can’t wait to announce it.” Phillippa grinned cattishly.

Drusilla groaned. “There is no such thing as a perfect man. She probably hopes her friends will humiliate me into not disgracing the family name by getting my medical degree.”

“That will never happen,” Phillippa said.

“Indeed it will not. I’m not one to have her head turned by a man, no matter how handsome,” Drusilla said. She was not looking forward to whatever her sisters had planned.  
 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Angelus rolled over and found the bed empty. He scowled. He liked flaunting Society rules and spending all night with his woman, or in their case, all day. It didn’t matter that no one actually knew they were being so sinful and sharing a bed. He got out of bed, padding down the hall. He knew Darla wouldn’t be downstairs in the sun-drenched rooms. They always opened the lower curtains before retiring for the day so the neighbors wouldn’t wonder why they were drawn. If anyone inquired about the upper levels, they were told that Darla suffered sick headaches and required darkness. Not that it matter what people thought except that if trouble started, they might have to move, and then Darla would be furious they lost their nice big home. It was worth silly concessions to keep it.

He heard the unmistakable sounds of sex coming from William’s room. So much for his weepiness over that damn puppy. It did bother him, having to share Darla. He hated the smell of her once she was done with William. It hurt that he wasn’t enough man to keep her happy. Even more disturbing was the fact that part of him was excited by watching and listening, as evidenced by the tenting of his nightgown. 

Angelus eased the door open, peering in. He wasn’t surprised to see Darla on top on William. She loved being in control. When he was a mortal, Angelus looked to be the one to dominate. It never occurred to him that women could even go on top. Now he found himself giving over to Darla more and more, and it exhilarated him. There was a sense of freedom in being controlled. It shouldn’t be that way but there it was. He liked the strange feelings Darla stirred in him. It let his wildest nature have free rein. Oh, he still took control from her too, having to fight for it which only served to make him harder. Yes, it was worth having to watch her with William. It added a layer to their loving.

Darla’s head fell back, her blonde hair moving over moonstone skin. She smiled at him. “Joining us?”

Angelus smirked, rolling up his nightgown over his hips as he walked to the bed. William groaned. Angelus figured he didn’t want him intruding but it quickly became apparent it wasn’t a conscious groan. Darla slipped off William’s slender body.

“Oh, so _now_ he has a vision.” She sighed, getting off the mattress lest she get batted by William’s thrashing.

“I might be a bastard to live with,” Angelus conceded. “But at least I don’t do that.” He nodded at William while rubbing against Darla.

She reached back, fondling him. “Oh, you do have your good points, Angelus. You just need to learn a little restraint with your family.”

Angelus grunted sliding her nightgown up, knowing she wouldn’t let him get too far until William told them what he was seeing. The dull ache of need throbbed between his legs. Angelus wished the stupid seer would stop writhing and moaning.  
William did so, suddenly sitting up. The pain drained from his face, replaced with an ecstatic look. William laughed.

“What did you see, William?” Darla rubbed against Angelus groin teasing him.

“She’s coming,” William said, bouncing off the bed.

“Who’s coming, William?” Darla touched his cheek.

“My dark rose,” William replied.

“Oh, that was helpful.” Angelus snorted. “Try making sense for a moment, William. I know that’s hard for you.”

William ignored Angelus’s slight, spinning himself around the bed post and flinging himself back on the mattress. “The one who makes me complete, a perfect ripe wicked plum.” 

“I think that’s as close to sense as he’s going to make, Angelus. But he seems happy,” Darla said.

“I suppose.”

“Next time we luck into a seer, no making him or her insane, Angelus.” Darla tapped his chin.

Angelus just grinned as he pulled Darla onto the bed with him. As William tried to slip in between, not ready to release his earlier claim on Darla’s body, Angelus knew what he was hoping William’s blather meant. William was going to sire himself a lover, and Angelus was determined to help him do it; anything to get Darla back for himself without having to share.

X X X

Drusilla hated everything about parties, and two things about them bothered her more than anything else; insipid people and the clothing. The people she could avoid, but there was no hiding from the bustle that made sitting a trick, all the horrible petticoats and the corset. At least her evening gown was provocatively cut, unlike the high collars of her day wear. She had chosen a deep emerald silk designed for grabbing attention. If she had to be at the party then people should notice her and realize she was avoiding them with reason. It might be in her best interest to fade into the background. It might be easier on her heart but it wasn’t her nature.

She took a final look at herself in the mirror before going downstairs. Drusilla shared her parents’ large, rambling home with her sisters. She fussed with the long iron curls that framed her face. If she didn’t look her best, Honora would take every opportunity to remind her of it. As much as she loved her sisters, they could be harpies. How she looked was one battle she could avoid having with them. She touched the strand of her grandmother’s pearls wound around her neck, the one concession to femininity that she actually liked. For a vain moment, she was taken aback by how pretty she looked.

As far as her sisters were concerned outwardly, she made a pretty good choice of wife. That was until the man found out about the active brain she had, and her ideas that women could do whatever they set their mind to, just like a man. After that they couldn’t get far enough away. Well, if she got lucky the men wouldn’t even notice her tonight. She really shouldn’t have dressed provocatively but her vanity wouldn’t let her do otherwise. Besides, most of her sisters’ friends already knew she was ‘odd.’

Drusilla hesitated on the stairs, seeing how packed the house was. All of Honora’s friends were here. The downstairs buzzed with conversation, and the rich smells of men’s tobacco wafted through the house. How vulgar. She simply didn’t want to go down there. Dru was quite late as it was, and she knew Honora would be furious about that. A coldness washed up over her. This would come to no good, Drusilla thought, swishing the rest of the way down the stairs. 

Honora was on her before she even made it all the way to the landing, her scolding tongue flapping. Drusilla ignored her with well-practiced ease as she tried to find a place to avoid the eyes that turned her way. Dru managed to keep herself secluded from their guests, more or less, except for the occasional forced small talk. It seemed like no one really knew what to say to her, especially now that she had been jailed, however briefly. It was as if they thought her ‘madness’ was catching if they talked to her.

She was contemplating her chances of escaping back upstairs with the pretense that she had a sick headache or the vapors or something fragile and womanly, and needed to lie down when Honora called for silence. It took a moment for the room to settle and for Drusilla to realize Honora was standing perilously close to Michael Wells. Radiant was the only term that described Honora’s face. 

Michael beamed as he addressed the room. “Honora and I are so glad to have all our friends here for this most special night.”

Dru’s heart sank. She knew what had to be coming and dreaded it. Her chest tightened as if someone had yanked her corset strings.

“Honora has done me the honor of becoming my wife,” Michael continued, and Dru shut her eyes. Her sister wasn’t just getting married; she was putting Elspeth and her under Michael’s thumb as well. “She has made me a happy man.”

Michael blathered on. Honora grinned so much it was as if her mouth had forgotten it could do anything else, and Dru felt like fainting for the first time in her life. Drusilla faded back as their friends surged up to congratulate the happy couple. She felt like her life had ended. She knew Michael had his eye on the House of Commons, and unlike Phillipa’s men folk, he wasn’t sympathetic to women’s rights. He would never allow her to have her lifestyle. Dru had no idea what to do.

Finally, she knew that she couldn’t put it off any longer. Drusilla edged over to Honora and said with all the enthusiasm of someone at a funeral, “I’m happy for you both.”

“Thank you. This will be very good for all of us,” Honora gushed.

Michael looked far less convinced. “I’m sure you’ll settle in nicely once you and your sisters move into my home, and we sell this old house.”

Sell her parents’ home? Who did this man think he was to just assume she would kow tow to him and do his bidding? She would have none of it. “What?”

“Not now, Drusilla,” Honora hissed, knowing what might be coming next. “Not in front of the guests.”

“There are several good men in my firm who are looking for good matches. I’m certain I can find you and Elspeth a husband,” Michael continued as if clueless to her distress. She knew he wasn’t. He was taunting her.

“Good luck with that, old man,” Clive, one of Michael’s close friends, said, overhearing the conversation. “He’d have to not mind his wife spending all that time in the jail.”

Several people laughed. Honora flushed. Drusilla knew her own cheeks burned, too, but with rage not shame.

“I won’t do it!” Dru declared.

“Drusilla, hold your tongue!” Honora cried. “You will do what you’re told.”

“I shall not. You’re making a mockery of everything I stand for. How could you honestly believe that I’d give up my home and marry some man because your man says so?” Drusilla stabbed a finger at Michael. “How could you so thoroughly misunderstand me?”

“I’ll take her, Michael. I’d like to try and break her high spirits,” Ori Rhodes laughed.

“That’s right, bray like the ass you are, Ori,” Drusilla snarled.

“Enough Drusilla. You are ruining everything. Just do what you’re told,” Honora spat.

“I won’t.”

Michael’s hand slapped Drusilla’s face so hard and fast that she didn’t have time to register it until the pain burned its way across her flesh. The room picked up the air of a tomb.

“That is the last we’ll be hearing from you. You don’t get a choice in this matter. You’re not a man. Just accept it.” He grinned triumphantly at her.

“Hell will have you before I obey you, Michael Wells,” Drusilla said, her voice cold and flat. “I’d rather die in a gutter before spending another moment under your roof.” Drusilla gathered her skirts and ran for the door. She could hear some of them laughing at her. She started to cry as the cool night air hit her face. She shivered wondering if snow wasn’t going to come early. She wished she had grabbed her coat. She had no idea what she could do now, none at all. Maybe Phillippa would allow her a bedsit in her home until she could figure something out.

Weeping so hard she could barely see, Drusilla ran into a trio walking up the sidewalk. Muttering her apologies, she kept going, hoping her friend could help her put together the pieces of her shattered life. Someone had to.

X X X

“The next time we attend the ballet, can we leave William behind?” Angelus grumbled as they walked the city streets. Most people were already heading for home. It was a toss-up between hunting the drunks and the whores now or waiting until the bakers and other shopkeepers came out in those last moments before sunrise. Angelus wanted to do both.

“William loved it. You can’t leave him home,” Darla scolded, tapping Angelus’s buttocks suggestively with her fan.

Angelus stopped and looked behind him. William was several paces back, pirouetting and jumping about in a clumsy approximation of the jetes, glissades and pas de chats he had seen on stage. His curls had escaped the silk ribbon they had been tied back with and his embroidered coat was open, flapping like dying wings. William’s choreography was frightening, and Angelus could only guess what the music in the mad vampire’s head might sound like.

“It looks like he’s having a fit,” Angelus said sourly. His reputation surely had to suffer, being seen with such a sorry excuse for a vampire, even if he was the reason William was cracked.

“Hush.” Darla looped an arm around Angelus, glancing over his shoulder. “Dance, William, dance.”

William laughed, cavorting out onto the cobbles, his dance looking even more like someone had dropped hot coals down his pants as he stumbled over the rounded rocks.

“Confess, Angelus, you loved the ballet, too,” Darla said, kissing his cheek.

“Of course he did. He wept when the prima danseur ‘died’.” William laughed, leaping back up onto the sidewalk. “Wilted on the stage like a plucked flower, and Angelus’s tears could have drowned her.” William wiggled his fingers down his cheeks suggestively.

“Shut your gob!” Angelus growled. He had had more than enough of William’s antics for one day.

William just laughed louder and swung around a gaslight, spinning himself to the top. “She’s coming!” He announced excitedly. “Like a flame in the dark.” He reached toward the glass of the gaslight, and then hissed as his fingers burned.

“Idiot,” Angelus grumbled.

Putting his wounded digits in his mouth for a quick, soothing suck, William flung himself off the pole and put his arms around Darla. “She’s coming, Mummy.”

Darla patted his back. “That’s nice, William. Who’s coming?”

“The piece of moonlight made for me. I’m all alone,” he said with a pout, pulling away from her.

“That’s not true, precious. You have us,” Darla said.

“Not in the least. I’m not welcome.” William made sad eyes at Angelus who snorted. 

“If you’re lonely, William, why not make yourself a companion,” Angelus suggested hopefully.

“Angelus,” Darla hissed.

William’s face brightened. “I will. That’s who’s coming. I’ll pick the brightest, most beautiful princess in the realm and make her mine forever with a kiss.”

Before Angelus could come up with a witty response, a blubbering girl slammed into him, and then careened off on her way, running down the sidewalk. She was too well dressed to be a whore, and she was coming from the wrong direction to be a theater patron. He wondered vaguely who she was. She was pretty. William peeled off from his family and went after her.

“Or he can pick the first babbling idiot he finds,” Darla sighed. “I’m not training a fledgling, Angelus. You encouraged him, you get to do it.”

Angelus shrugged wondering how fast he could take William’s girl from him. “Fair enough. Think he’ll find someone good?”

Darla took his arm. “I found you.”

 

X X X

Drusilla heard someone behind her, and she started hurrying along. She knew she was in danger, a woman alone at night. She’d be lucky to not be set upon by thieves in the dark. Hearing the footsteps behind her, Drusilla turned the corner hoping to lose him and short cut to Phillippa’s. Too late she realized that she had made a mistake. She had turned into a blind alley.

Steeling herself, Drusilla turned around. The young man she had run into on the sidewalk was behind her. His coat gaped open, his hair in a disarray. He looked like a fallen cherub, and yet she remained afraid. “I’ve nothing for you to steal,” she said foolishly. She stood before him with an expensive strand of pearls around her neck.

“I want nothing but a kiss,” he said walking forward.

“I’m not that sort of girl, I thank you very much,” she said primly. Maybe if she screamed the bobbies would come.

“No, you’re a beautiful blue light pouring over the land, making changes.”

“What are you talking about?” Her voice shook. She was a little frightened by this lunatic. Attractive or not, she could see something like madness in his eyes. He pointed a finger at his temple.

“You want to do what _men_ do. Think for yourself. Do for yourself,” he said, ticking of the points with a sharp jerk of his head, mashing it into his pointed finger. “Admirable. You shine like the moon.”

Drusilla backed against the wall. Had this man been one of the few of his sex who had been at the rallies? He sounded like he understood her cause and approved. “Yes, I want the right to vote, to be educated. Is that so wrong?”

He reached out faster than she thought possible and caught her hand. His skin was so soft and cool like raw silk. “You want to use these hands to heal. My strong princess...I see France in your eyes.”

Dru felt suddenly unafraid. “You know I want to go to the Sorbonne? Are you one of Phillippa’s friends?”

“I see what you want. Something glowing and glistening. I can help you be strong. You will have all your dreams. Do you want that?” he asked so close to her now their bodies were nearly touching.

“Yes,” Drusilla breathed in spite of the ridiculousness of the idea of any one man granting all her dreams.

His lips caressed her bare neck. No man had ever been this intimate with her nor had she wanted them to. However, this was nice, better than she would have suspected. He drew back and smiled at her all golden eyes and fanged. Drusilla shrieked and hit him right in the ridges of his forehead, missing his eyes in her panic. He laughed and caught her flailing wrists, pulling her close. The hardness between his legs dug into her hip as his fangs tore into her neck. Drusilla kept fighting the best she could until her body felt too heavy to move and the world spun into darkness.   
 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

“I think you have enough flowers, William,” Angelus grumbled as William heaped more blossoms all around the little wooden plaque that would stand in for this Drusilla until the stone masons could make her headstone.

William scowled at him. “You didn’t let me get her ready for her birth,” he scolded, and then went back to arranging flowers.

“When did he become such a traditionalist?” Angelus whined to Darla.

“Leave him be, Angelus,” Darla said tiredly, fanning herself.

“It’s no fun digging up from the grave. Dirt gets into you, nasty little worms. She should have seen only the moon above her.” William pouted. 

“You do have a point there,” Angelus conceded. “But the digging gives you spine, right Darla?”

“That was what I was taught,” she said.

“I hear her.” William leapt up and started to dance around the headstones. “She’s waking up.” He leapt up onto a pedestal where a mournful angel kept watch over a grave. He kissed the stone face. “My angel is coming for me. We’ll have such fun together, the feeding, the playing, the loving,” William cried, doing something very rude to the angel.

“Ouch.” Angelus winced. “Darla, remind me of this the next time I even think about turning an insane person.”

“I’m reminding you now that you encouraged dear William to make a fledgling. You know he’s in no condition to teach anyone. You’ll be filling the role of sire.”

“She was beautiful. I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” Angelus leered.

Darla slapped his face. “Leave William his woman, at least for a while. He deserves her.”

“Very well,” Angelus conceded but he had no plans of obeying for long, just until Darla stopped keeping a close eye on him.

Darla pulled him away from the grave so they could watch from a discreet distance and let William be the first to greet his fledgling. Angelus expected William to come out of his skin as he fidgeted waiting for the new vampire to dig herself free. He could hear the sounds of digging and remembered his own time under the earth. William had a point. It was cruel. Angelus shook, trying to loosen the memories from him like a dog wiggling off water droplets.

Finally, a hand poked up through the dirt and flowers, and William was there to capture it and help her free. The girl sat up still half under the ground, that dazed, frightened look on her face. Angelus noticed that the expensive jewelry he had seen on the body when William had proudly shown her off was missing. Greedy family, he surmised.

She looked at William who beamed at her like a deranged angel. Mad William brushed the loose clumps of sod from the girl’s hair as she glanced around with large eyes as she tried to make sense of things. Angelus remembered that unsettling feeling, too. “What happened?”

“You’ve been reborn and now, I’ll show you what you can really become.” William wrapped his arms around her, dragging her out of the grave, like a doctor delivering a baby.

“I don’t understand,” she said, wiping dirt from his eyes.

“And William’s not really the one to explain it,” Angelus said, sauntering over. William gave him an irritated look. 

“William?” She caressed William’s cheek. “That’s a good, strong name.”

“I’m Angelus and she’s Darla,” Angelus gestured to his lover, irked at her ignoring him.

“They’re your new family,” William said. “But I bet you’re hungry.” He bolted behind a crypt and came back with a trussed up young boy. “I’ve brought you something good to eat,” he sing-songed.

The woman started to protest but the demon finally got its bearings. She smiled full fanged and sauntered over to William.

Angelus kissed Darla’s cheek. “Just a guess but I think William found a good one.”

X X X

Drusilla found her resistance didn’t last very long. The first night Angelus had suggested she kill her family she rebelled. Two nights later she went after Honora and Michael. She didn’t tell her new family about Elspeth, who had never done anything to Dru. Honora, even before she had tried to inflict the marriage on them all, had always been critical of Drusilla, especially about her pursuits of women’s equality, the right to vote and dreams of medical school. She had really enjoyed killing Honora.

Michael was even more fun. She and William left him alive for a long time, pissing and shitting himself as they tortured him and Honora. She made love to William on Michael’s bed as her sister and her fiancée watched, crying and moaning like frightened children. Angelus had been so right about how much fun this was. He’d be mad that she left him out of it but this was something she wanted to share only with her dear, sweet, almost gentle, William. He read Michael poetry while she killed Honora. Her William had such a wonderful voice. Angelus might have the smoldering brow but his voice was slick as fish oil and his mind as rank as a fishmonger’s cart.

William leaned in close over Michael’s cooling body and licked a trickle of blood from her lips. “You are so beautiful, my dark rose.”

She brushed the curls back off his face. “Come, lover. We’re done here.” Dru took his cool hand and pulled him outside. She wondered for just a moment what Elspeth would do now. Dru shrugged it off. Elspeth was better off. 

Fat snowflakes fell from the sky in an unseasonably early storm. Dru canted her face up, feeling them hitting her eyelashes and cheeks. They glittered like diamonds in the light of the gas lamps; white against the indigo sky. Everything seemed so dark blue now that she was confined to the night. Drusilla wanted a dress the color of the night. Darla probably had one. The matriarch of the family was a clotheshorse but in spite of her acerbic tongue, Dru liked her. Darla had owned her own business, so what if it was a brothel? She knew how to survive in a man’s world, and Drusilla respected that.

It was her poor William who couldn’t quite survive on his own. She would gut whoever had done this to him. Still, maybe he would surprise her one day. William might be cannier than anyone gave him credit for. It didn’t matter, she loved him anyway. When he was acting innocent, like he was now, dancing about trying to catch snowflakes on his tongue, she loved him the most. He flung his arms around her, swinging her up, making her skirts swirl.

“It’s so beautiful out,” he said. “Like you, like your beautiful mind that called to me, a mind that glows and bathes me with light.”

“This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary,” Drusilla said. “Precise and logical and filled with shadows and love. Serene. And it’s all for you.” She kissed him softly.

William trailed his fingers over her forehead. “There are trees in your head where you spent so much time hiding behind because you were different. The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue.”

“Blue,” Drusilla murmured. “I was just thinking about blue. Your gift has stained my world with indigo. I love it.”

“Our color,” he said. “I will write you poems and they will be all the shades of blue.”

“And I will love them all,” she said, slipping her hand back into his. “The night is young. Let’s spill the light of our minds over this time.”

“And stain things crimson.” He laughed.

“Another pretty color.” She kissed him.

X X X

There was still something subtly wrong about hitting a woman but Drusilla deserved it. She sprawled on the floor of their London home, looking up at him stunned but he thought it had less to do about him hitting her than it did with William bouncing around Darla babbling about a fight. He egged Dru on to hit Angelus back. To Angelus’s surprise, Drusilla swarmed up off the floor and punched him right back.

“What was that for?” she snarled, dancing back into a fighter’s stance, a trickle of blood running from her split lip.

A battle stance always looked so damn silly in long dresses. No matter how many times he had seen Darla do it - though she was loathed to get physical - Angelus always had a tough time not laughing at women fighters. He wondered how silly a Slayer would look in skirts and corsets. Maybe she would dress like a man. He didn’t care to know. “Because of you we have to get out of town,” he rumbled. “I’ve warned you against showy kills and what do you do? You slaughtered an entire men’s club!”

“Did you see the article they wrote in the paper laughing at the Women’s Social and Political Union? They laughed at my life’s work. They’re not laughing now,” Drusilla shot back. “It was fun.”

“What do you care? You can’t vote now anyhow. You’re dead,” Angelus jeered. “All you’ve done is alerted everyone to our presence.”

Drusilla crossed her arms, tossing her hair back. “They’re meat. Who cares?”

“Oh, our children are going to fight,” William said to Darla. “The King of Cups expects a picnic! But this is not his birthday.”

“You truly are daft, William,” Darla said. “Tell her why we don’t bring mobs down on our heads, Angelus.”

“The Slayer and her Watchers. There’s an enclave of them here,” Angelus replied, disgusted.

“Ooo, the Slayer. I’d forgotten,” William said.

“Yes, I suppose you were having too much fun with that railroad spike,” Darla said as tart as unripe persimmons. She glared at Drusilla. “What were you thinking, teaching him how to torture like that?”

“It’s time William becomes more than your eyes to the future. He needs to stand up for himself. I’m teaching him that,” Drusilla replied, sharply. “And I think he needs a new name.” She crossed over to William and ran a hand along his cheek. “I think I’ll call him Spike.” William turned his face, licking her hand.

“We’ll call you both dust if you do something like this again,” Angelus griped. 

“We’d better start packing before the Watchers send for a Slayer. I think the new one is in Russia,” Darla said, casting another furious look at Drusilla.

“What is this Slayer you keep bleating on about?” Drusilla said, seeing that her elders were worried and was smart enough to realize she needed to know why.

Angelus laughed mirthlessly. “She’s a real strike for your women’s rights, Drusilla. The Slayer is the one girl in all the world that monsters fear. Her only purpose is to kill us. I should let her have you.”

Drusilla laughed. “I can’t believe you’re actually afraid of one little girl.”

“If you’ve met one, you’d know why. It’s possible to have a nice long life, Drusilla, but not if you get the attention of the Slayer,” Angelus said, heading for the stairs. “Pack or stay. I don’t care which.”

As Darla followed him upstairs, Drusilla wrapped an arm around Spike. She tapped his chest. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Spike? I think we need to find us a Slayer.”

Spike grinned wickedly at the idea.

 

Epilogue

A DeSoto rocketed past the ‘Welcome to Sunnydale’ sign and eventually scraped along with sidewalk down town. Drusilla got out from behind the wheel and leaned against her car, surveying the town. She pulled her cigarettes of her leather pants and lit it with her death’s head Zippo. Taking a deep drag, she let smoke trickle past her painted lips.

“Doesn’t look like much,” she said.

“Dru, I’m cold,” Spike said, getting out of the chair.

“Spike, you need to rest,” Drusilla fretted. She took off her leather coat, revealing the leather and chainmail halter she had taken off a biker chick. If Spike had been healthy, she would have taken the Harley Softtail, too, but he didn’t have the strength to sit in the bitch seat without falling off. She wrapped her coat around him and Spike rested his head on her shoulder.

“Why are we here? I don’t like this place. It’s full of sick power. I should love that but it makes me feel like ants are having a party on me,” Spike said.

Drusilla rubbed his back. “That’s the Hellmouth, my prince. This is where Angelus is supposed to be.”

“And when we find him then I’ll be all better.” Spike looked up at the moon. 

“And go back to Prague and make that mob regret ever seeing us.” She smoothed a hand over his hair. “The spell would work even better if we had Darla but I heard Angelus dusted her for a Slayer. Can you imagine it? Angelus as the Slayer’s lap dog?”

“The Slayer is here,” Spike said mournfully.

Drusilla hated to hear the fear in her weakened lover’s voice. Not so long ago he would have been as excited to throw down with another Slayer as she was. “She’s just gravy,” she promised him, looking at his pale skin lit by blue neon of a nearby bar sign. She thought back to her first nights cloaked in indigo shadows as she learned to hunt. She owed Spike so much. She couldn’t imagine her life without him. As soon as she found Angelus and healed Spike, she wouldn’t have to. “Let’s go find out who’s in charge here and let him know he’s answering to us now.” She laughed.

“That’s my beautiful indigo rose.” Spike managed a smile for her. 

Hope in her unbeating heart, Drusilla looked at Sunnydale. It was just a matter of time before it was theirs. Maybe the spell would leave Angelus alive. She could use a lap dog of her own. She couldn’t wait to find out.

 

**Author’s Note** The Challenge Prompt - This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary.   
The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue. ( _The Moon and The Yew Tree_ \- Sylvia Plath)


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